Trouble by Nadene Seiters Page A

away from mine that I realize she’s crying.

Chapter Ten
    “Why are you crying? Does your neck hurt? Should I call a doctor?” I panic, raising both hands to cup her face and grimacing in the process. My shoulder is killing me, but I don’t let my hand drop. Daisy shakes her head and goes to turn on the water. I let her, but when she turns to face me again I force her out from under the stream of water and put her back to the shower wall.
    “Then why are you crying, Daisy.” It doesn’t come out as a question, more of a demand. Her chin trembles.
    “ Because you don’t want me!” We’re back to that again. I thought over the past few weeks I’ve been proving to her that I do want her. I just don’t want to be the jerk that forces her to do something she doesn’t want to.
    “I do, that’s the problem,” I lean my nose down against where her neck meets her shoulder and inhale; some of the water droplets on her skin tickle my nose.
    “Then why won’t you have sex with me?” She sounds lost, confused. I’ve never been good at explaining my emotions, and why I do the things I do. Sometimes even I don’t understand them. But if I want Daisy to stop crying I’m going to have to explain this to her eventually. There’s never a better time than the present.
    “Because I don’t want to,” I feel her stiffen under me, angry. “I want to make love to you, Daisy. Has anyone ever cared about what you want?” I ask her, feeling the water pelting down on my right side. Her hair is barely wet, but it’s wet enough to start making her cold.
    Daisy doesn’t answer me. Her palms are flattened against the side of the shower stall, her chin jutting in the air, and her right foot raised, leaning against the tub. I reach down to touch her silky leg and pull it up around my waist. I pull her towards me so that she’s flattened against me, feeling the hard length of me.
    “I want you more than breathing, but I’m not going to take what isn’t mine.” I loosen my grip on her leg and let it slide down mine, stepping back. There’s a full foot between us and I reach over to grab the shampoo out of the rack. I hold it between us and sit down on the side of the tub so that she can reach my hair.
    For the rest of the shower she doesn’t say anything, just helps me wash my hair and my upper back. I watch her with a hungry heart and body as she washes all over and gets out of the shower. I peel off my wet boxers and finish my shower.
    I don’t get out until I hear the door gently shut. There’s a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the counter, no underwear. I towel off, pull on the jeans before Daisy can come back in, and turn around to look at the damage in the mirror. There’s a bruise running from my shoulder, down my back, about a foot long. The bastard had a good swing.
    It’s purple in the center and yellow around the edges, already beginning to fade in a little over twenty four hours. I pull on my shirt to cover up the bruise and brush my teeth. I don’t bother combing through my hair; it’s well past time to go to bed. I have a feeling Daisy genuinely needs the rest.
    When I come out of the bathroom , it’s pitch black, no lights on. She must really be pissed off at me. So I head for the bedroom and stop just as I’m about to open the door. There’s a small light filtering out from under the door, probably that lamp I got last week. The dresser hasn’t arrived yet.
    I put my hand on the doorknob and gently swing it open without stepping inside. Daisy’s lying on what I now think of as her side of the bed, with nothing on. Her eyes are closed, but I can tell by her breathing that she’s just on the brink of falling asleep. I grab the bottle of pain pills off the dresser that the hospital issued to me, and pop one. I’m going to need it. Then I pop another one and crunch on it, swallow and peel off my shirt. I stretch out beside her on my stomach and watch the glow of her skin in the lamplight.
    Then